


A Moment for the History Books

by EntreNous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, Gen, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-24
Updated: 2010-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 00:31:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Without Draco there would have been no mission, no account for the history books.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moment for the History Books

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place a few years after DH.

"None of it could have happened any differently," people murmured to him. Kind people, stupid people, because Draco knew there was a moment of reckoning, a second where he could have made a difference.

They'd been tracking Fenrir for days, made possible by the tip Draco himself had paid dearly for with an expensive and rare volume in the library at the Manor for generations. It pained him to give the precious volume over to a leering filthy man his connections had found him, but he vowed he would retrieve it in the end after all was said and done.

Potter had not wanted Draco along with his team tracking Fenrir, but Draco insisted, seeing as how he was the provider of information. Without him, there would be no mission, no possibility of crossing off one more lurking danger, no chance they could destroy one more reminder of Voldemort's presence. And if he didn't go along, he wouldn't get to watch while the Aurors crushed the criminal who had stayed at the Manor, eaten their food, whispered repulsive threats into Draco's ear while his mother trembled at his side.

There had been grumblings about Ministry permission and red tape, but Draco suspected in the end Potter simply did not tell anyone who would have put their foot down. And so Draco went.

When they found him -- when he found _them_ \-- Draco stood by a large tree, nearly leaning against it. Potter squatted at the base rested against its trunk, his eyes shut for a second's respite. His eyelashes fluttered slightly as he sighed, and Draco watched him, the pale skin at his temple only highlighted by the trace of blue vein there, the brush of color on his cheeks from the autumn wind, the sleekness of his throat as he swallowed.

Potter led his team capably, and after some initial grumbling, treated Draco as a part of the proceedings rather than an interloper. He asked for Draco's opinion a time or two, and while he hadn't been friendly, exactly, there had been a frank appraisal in his eyes that said Draco was someone to speak to, to consult, to include. While they had trudged over rocky ground and camped at night in hastily made shelters, Draco allowed himself to wonder, as he worked and walked at Potter's side. Just wonder, nothing more.

Now they had paused in their scrutinizing of the area for tracks. The others were a mile away, at a stream they had passed.

There was nothing in the clearing before them, and then there was: Fenrir, teeth bared in a horrid grimace, his hair wild and matted, looking back and forth between them like an starving intruder at a sumptuous banquet, choosing which dish he might steal, steal away from the company to shove into his maw and smear on his dirty face.

"Run," Potter had shouted at Draco, pushing up to his feet, wand already out.

The malice in Fenrir's eyes, the delight in them -- he focused on Draco, his grimace turning to wide grin, and Draco could hear as if Fenrir were whispering in his ear, hot foul breath against Draco's neck, what Fenrir had planned for him.

Fenrir stepped toward Draco. Potter rushed forward.

In that second, Draco could see as if he held the book in his hands, see the sentence or two that Potter would ensure historians put into the texts they would keep on the shelves at Hogwarts: how Draco Malfoy had redeemed himself, sacrificed all that was left of his family and had allowed Harry Potter to escape a madman, a beast, a twisted killer.

As he ran away, his heart thumping in his chest, his feet pounding against the sod, breath stuttering and choking him as he fell, picked himself up, ran again, the screams behind him urged him on to run faster, run harder, save himself.

When the screams faded as if carried away, and all Draco could hear was the blood thrumming in his brain, he collapsed.

The other Aurors brought him back with only scrapes and a few bruises. Brought him back to the Manor, where in the library, on his father's desk, sat the book Draco had bartered away, in pristine condition.

He returned it to the shelf with shaking hands, and pushed away the thought of Potter's pale skin, the smooth column of his neck.

None of it could have happened any differently. Except that everything could have.


End file.
